


The Frog Prince

by Slenderlock



Category: Der Froschkönig oder der eiserne Heinrich | The Frog Prince (Fairy Tale), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: John is a Prince, John's mother is totally okay with a talking frog eating dinner with them, M/M, Sherlock is a frog, The Frog Prince AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderlock/pseuds/Slenderlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince John Watson meets a strange talking frog in the pond in the middle of the palace gardens.  The traditional tale of The Frog Prince, told with Sherlock characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Frog Prince

Prince John Watson tugged his thin jacket tighter around his torso, shivering against the chilly winter wind. His walk had turned sour when the sun had decided to hide behind the rolling thunderclouds. It hadn’t taken long for the rain to set in, and he wished very dearly that he’d thought to bring more than his old jacket with him. 

John took cover under a tree and peeled off his jacket. Perhaps he could wring some of the water from it to have more warmth and protection from the storm. A particularly large gust of wind caused him to stumble sideways, grip loosening on his coat. The wind tore it from his hands and across the grass of the park. It landed in the small pond in the middle of the garden and vanished over the rim of stone that lined the edge.

John jogged over to the pond and peered down. Rain shattered the surface of the water, which was murky and green. If John’s jacket was in the pond, he would have to feel around for it first, and he had no idea how deep the water was. 

Just as John was about to retreat back into the castle (and thoroughly soak his clothes in the process) a sleek black frog emerged from the water. John stared at it. The frog stared back at him.

“John Watson,” the frog said. John blinked. It was not unheard of for animals to talk- on the contrary, it was quite common for birds to communicate freely with their owners- but they usually weren’t of the amphibious variety. 

“Yes?” John said. “Sorry, how do you know my name?” While John would usually have been recognized around the kingdom as the crown prince, he suspected that frogs and creatures of the like didn’t busy themselves with such matters and would not be able to name various monarchs on sight.

“Your name was written on your coat,” the frog replied. Its bright blue eyes vanished for a split second as it blinked at John.

“My jacket,” John said, staring at the frog. Overhead, he could hear thunder boom, and a gust of wind swept his rain soaked hair into his eyes. He wiped it away impatiently. “You saw it?”

“Obviously,” the frog said, rolling its eyes.

“Can you get it for me?” John asked eagerly. The frog nodded.

“If,” it said, in the most pompous tone of voice it could manage, “you permit me to take shelter in your castle from the storm.”

“Yes, yes, fine,” John said, not listening. Lightning lit up the garden suddenly, causing him to jump. A few seconds later, a crack of thunder accompanied it. “Just get me my jacket.”  
“You must promise,” the frog said.

“All right, all right. I promise.” John nodded. The frog regarded him coolly before leaping back into the pond. A few moments later it returned, holding John’s jacket in one hand. John took it, gratefully. He wrung it out as best he could and slipped it on, rain still pelting. He turned back to the castle, which seemed further away than it had been before. 

“Wait,” the frog said, hopping up onto the side of the pond. “Your promise, Prince John.”

“Forget it,” John called. The wind roared between them, nearly drowning out his words. John turned back to the castle and started running, wanting to stay out of the rain. After all, it was only a frog. It wasn’t as if it could harm him. 

He finally reached the castle, where his parents and his sister Harriet were delighted to see him return. He changed into dry clothes, hung his wet ones by the fire, joined his family for a delicious supper, and was just about to go to bed when he heard a knock on the door.

He opened it, reluctantly, and at first he saw nothing but the rain and the wind pounding down on the garden grass.

“John Watson,” said a voice from John’s feet. John looked down. Sitting on the steps leading up to the castle door was the frog. “You gave me your promise that I could use your castle as shelter for the storm.”

“Yes, well.” John frowned. “I changed my mind.” 

“Johnny?” John turned and saw his mother walking towards him, nightgown draped over her shoulders to the floor. “Who’s that?”

“Mrs. Watson,” the frog greeted. “I met your son this afternoon. He dropped his coat into the pond and I returned it to him, in exchange for a promise that I could use your castle as shelter for the storm.”

“Did you?” John’s mother asked, looking at John. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Well, then, we’ll just have to see what we can do for you.” She held out a hand for the frog, which ignored it. 

“I will stay the night here,” it said, looking up at John.

“Fine, whatever.” John frowned at the frog. 

They fashioned a small bed for it out of an empty vegetable box and some cotton swabs. John’s mother found an old dress and cut out a small blanket for the frog, which ignored her. The frog’s bed was placed in John’s room.

“You’re the one who gave the frog the promise, you will look after it,” John’s mother reminded him. 

The night passed slowly for John, who couldn’t stop staring at the frog. It was of a variety he’d never seen before. Midnight black, with startlingly blue eyes. He thought he saw the slightest traces of purple around the frog’s toes. 

“How long have you been in our pond?” he asked it, after an hour or so of trying to fall asleep.

“Long enough,” was the frog’s reply. It blinked at him, moonlight reflecting off its eyes. _Long enough for what?_ John wanted to ask.

John took one last look at the frog before rolling over in bed, trying to forget about it.

The next day, John took the frog outside and back to the pond while it was still sleeping. He went back to the castle and told his mother that the frog had decided to leave. A few days passed, and John nearly forgot about it. 

John’s father, who had passed away long ago, had given both Harry and John a ring, telling them never to lose them, for his spirit rested inside of them. He died shortly after, and John’s grief stricken mother would not leave his side. On the anniversary of his death, Harry, in a fit of fury, cast her ring into the fire, where it melted. John, unable to stand his sister and her violent tendencies, fled into the gardens. 

He walked until he reached the pond and sat on a bench. He looked at the ring on his finger and pulled it off, examining it. An emerald green jewel was embedded into the gold band. John held it up to the light to see if it had a message inside, and it slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the ground before rolling into the pond. 

Horrified, John bent over the water, looking for the ring. The water was clearer, now that the storm had passed, but John still could not see to the bottom. 

Something splashed next to him and he saw, to his amazement, the frog from the storm that had retrieved his jacket. 

“You dropped your ring,” it said.

“Can you bring it back?” John pleaded. “It’s my father’s; he died today a year ago and gave to me that ring.”

“If you promise to let me eat at your table,” the frog said. John nodded, not thinking about the request.

“Just get the ring back,” he said, looking into the water. The frog leapt into the pond and returned moments later with the small ring clutched in its hand. John took it and fixed it around his finger, vowing never to take it off again.

“Remember your promise,” the frog said. John ignored it and returned to the castle.

His sister had thankfully calmed down by dinner time. As the cooks were arriving with the food, he heard a knock on the door.

Impatiently, John rose and opened the door. Just as before, he saw nothing at first. And then when he looked down, he saw again the small black frog with bright blue eyes.   
“You gave me a promise,” the frog said. 

John’s mother stood from her seat and carefully walked to the door. “Oh,” she said, seeing the frog. “Hello, again.”

“Your son lost his ring in the pond,” the frog explained. “I returned it to him in exchange for the promise that I could eat at your table.”

“Come along, then,” said John’s mother. She smiled at the frog, which again ignored her. She didn’t seem to mind.

The frog ate at the table beside them and John’s mother didn’t seem to mind. John, however, minded a great deal. 

“And how was your meeting with the stable girl?” the frog asked, when the meal was nearly finished. Harriet, who was halfway through a bite of chocolate cake, froze.

“Harriet?” John’s mother asked.

Harry glared at the frog. “Don’t say things that aren’t true,” she said. 

“I don’t,” said the frog. “Your hair is tangled; someone’s run their hands through it. The bruise on your neck was not caused by someone who meant you harm. The trace of horse manure on your left shoe indicates you were by the stables, and the dust on your dress only supplies more evidence for the same conclusion. Clara, the stable girl, is the only one working at this time of day, and as you were just reminded of your father’s death, you needed a distraction.” The frog said this all very fast.

Harry picked up her glass and threw it at the frog, which leapt out of the way at the last second. The glass shattered on the floor and Harry stormed out, face red. 

“Harriet!” John’s mother called, standing and rushing after her daughter.

“That wasn’t nice,” John told the frog.

“And why should I care about ‘nice’?” it asked. John didn’t have an answer.

“It was rather brilliant, though,” John added. The frog looked at him in surprise.

“You think so?” it asked.

“Yes,” John said. The frog preened, and ate the last of its cake. “Can you just do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look at people and know things about them?” John clarified. The frog nodded. “What can you tell about me?” John asked. The frog regarded him.

“I can tell that you are the younger sibling in your family, that you are not fastidious in your attire, that you have no desire to marry, and that your sister’s tendencies, well.” The frog fixed John with a very hard stare. “They run in the family.” John gaped. “I can also tell that you have recently returned from the Kingdom of Baker Hall, possibly on a business venture but more likely because you liked the coastline. You care for your mother but constantly live in fear that anything might happen to her, understandable seeing as your father died of an illness a year ago.”

“How- how did you know that?”

The frog continued on without skipping a beat. “Your body language towards your sister indicates that you feel intimidated by her- your mother also gives you far more attention than her, which I do admit is a generalization, but a good one nonetheless. Conclusion: younger sibling. Your jacket which I retrieved was torn in many places, but was hand stitched. It was not professionally stitched, so you either must have stitched it yourself of had someone stitch it for you. It’s not the jacket you’re too fond of, because it is littered with stains and tears, so it must be the concept of buying new clothes that you feel particularly averse to.” The frog picked up a slice of potato. “Your tan suggests you have been away- not for long, of course- and as the only neighboring kingdom is Baker Hall, which rests on the coastline, that’s the most probable place. The way you act around your mother- helping her to sit and stand- shows quite clearly that you worry about her.”

“And how did you know my father died of an illness?” John asked.

“Shot in the dark,” the frog admitted. It took a bite of potato.

“That,” John said, and the frog stopped and set his potato down, “was amazing.” The frog looked up at him, startled. 

“You think so?” it asked.

“Yes,” John said. “It was… extraordinary. Incredible.”

“Did I get anything wrong?” the frog asked. 

“Harry’s my younger sibling,” John offered. “But since I’m the male heir, mother does pay more attention to me.”

The frog scowled. “There’s always something.”

“Doesn’t make it any less incredible.”

“Well, you have served your promise,” the frog said, and hopped away. John opened his mouth to ask it to stay, but closed it before he could. The frog returned to the pond, and John was left alone in the dining room.

As it happened, John’s mother was not bothered at all by her daughter’s preference. It was merely the status she was worried about. As John’s father had just died, the family needed to continue on, with Harriet as the oldest child in the family. John’s mother wanted Harry to find a suitable husband- or wife-, leaving John as the heir to the throne. Clara, the stable girl, was not a “suitable” wife, according to John’s mother. Harry threw a fit.

John’s mother fell ill a few days later, and John would not leave her bedside. Unlike John’s father, his mother’s illness was curable. John traveled to the local doctor and told him of his mother’s condition. The doctor gave him a bottle of medicine, sealed with wax. John carried it back to the castle. Heavy rains had fallen in the past few days, and John didn’t watch where he stepped. His foot slipped on a particularly slippery rock, and the bottle of medicine flew from his hand and fell into the pond.

“Frog,” he called, looking around wildly. “Oh, frog!”

The frog leapt out of the pond and stared at him. “John Watson,” it greeted.

“My mother is ill,” John said. “I had a bottle of medicine for her, but it fell into the pond.”

“You want me to get it for you,” the frog said, blinking at him.

“Yes,” John said. “Whatever the price is. I don’t care; you don’t have to tell me. Just get the medicine.”

Without another word, the frog vanished into the pond and returned with the bottle. John snatched it and ran back to the castle. His mother drank the medicine with broth and within a day was back on her feet, well as ever. The next night, they had a wonderful dinner in celebration of her recovery. John slept and dreamt of times when he was young, when his mother and father would take him out for walks in the garden. The next morning he woke to a knock on the door.

He dressed quickly and opened the door, this time looking down at the frog immediately.

“What is it that you want?” he asked, before the frog could say anything. “Food? A place to stay? Riches? You have saved my mother, I am indebted to you.”

“I want,” said the frog, “a kiss.”

John was thrown by this request. “A kiss?” he repeated.

“Yes,” the frog replied. “I want you to kiss me.”

John thought about it. He could throw the frog back into the pond and ignore it, but it had already done so much for him, and after all it had saved his mother. He picked it up in his hands and looked it in the eye. 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” the frog said, blinking its bright blue eyes at him. “One kiss, and I will not ask any more favors from you unless you wish me to.”

John considered the offer. “All right,” he agreed. “Just one kiss.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips hesitantly to the frog’s, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he found that the frog had vanished. In its place stood a tall man, with curly black hair and bright blue eyes looking down at him.

“John Watson,” said the man, and his voice matched that of the frog. “My brother placed a curse upon me which turned me into a frog,” he said, taking John’s hands. “The only way to break it was to earn a kiss from one I loved.” John found himself unable to reply. “I stayed in your palace gardens for a year, observing you and your castle.”

“Who are you?” John asked, looking up at the man who seemed to tower above him.

“My name is Sherlock Holmes,” said the man, “and I come from the neighboring kingdom. My brother, the rightful king, is Mycroft Holmes.” The name was familiar to John. “And I hope I’m not being too forward in asking your hand in marriage,“ he finished, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” John replied. 

The wedding of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes took place in the palace garden, by the pond. The summer breeze carried them through the ceremony, and they both lived happily ever after. 

The End.


End file.
